<TITLE>14. Par 41-44</TITLE>L-41 I imagine He was miserable setting there. All the rest of them, and the Pharisee testifying over there about different things that happened, and poor Jesus set there with dirty feet, unanointed face, no kiss. Jesus wants to be kissed. There's a Scripture in Psalms 2, says, "Kiss the Son, lest He be angry." "Kiss the Son," Oh, you'll never know what it means till once you've kissed the Son. Kiss the Son, make Him welcome into your heart.
But He set unanointed with dirty feet. Oh, how embarrassed He was. Pharisee was having his big time; he was too busy entertaining the great men of the city, to know that Jesus was unentertained. But He come anyhow. Oh, my God, how did--what happened, how did that flunky at the door ever get by without washing His feet? God, I wish I had his job. How I would've loved to have washed His feet at the door. How I would've loved to have entertained Him, to take in my basin of water, when I knowed that He was setting there.

L-42 But there He was with the rich and the proud. They didn't care nothing about Him. He was just an entertainment, something to make the people gape and look upon. No doubt he had in his heart, he'd ask Him to do a miracle for him or something.
And while He was setting there, on the outside in the street there was a real bad woman in the town, a prostitute. We won't go in detail about that; you know what it is, a woman of ill fame, fallen.
Don't condemn her. Listen, before there can be a fallen woman, there has to be a fallen man, too. Maybe some sweetheart she had loved her up to his heart, until he crushed the fire of the--her life under his feet, and introduced her to this kind of a life.
The Scripture said she was a great sinner. No one had nothing to do with her, but all knowed her. They knew who she was, certainly. She was a great sinner. And perhaps passing by, not welcome among any of the people, she tip-toed, and she looked up, and she spotted my Lord setting in the corner with unwashed feet, setting unwelcome amongst the rich. It was too much for her. She said, "No, I'm sure that's Him."

L-43 You never see Jesus, 'less you'll know Him when you see Him again. No one can never look upon Him and ever forget His looks. I can think she said... She might've heard Him somewhere else, she said, "Oh, there's that great Teacher. But He's over here with the Pharisees, and they don't want Him."
Oh, she turns around; I can see her say, "Oh, I--I can't. Oh it, I must be losing my mind. Surely--surely I couldn't do that. Oh, maybe, reckon I could?"
I can see her gather her clothes around her and start down the street. I can see two men nudge their arms together and say, "Looky there, see what come up." Oh, sure you're too good. I'd like to look right in your eyes one time, see how good you are.

L-44 You say, "Brother Branham, I'm no prostitute."
I don't altogether mean sexually. Prostitution's on a higher level. You can prostitute your time. How much time do you give to Him? Prostitute your own selfish motives, going around saying, "Well, I belong to this church, I'm better."
No you're not. You can prostitute otherwise than sexually. The Holy Spirit will speak to your heart, and you'll say, "I want nothing to do with that." You blind Pharisee, prostitute. What's the matter with you? Committing adultery with the world, that's what you're doing.
Oh, you say, "I belong to church," and so cold and indifferent. Oh, you say pretty prayers. Oh, I hate that Pharisaic thing. Oh, you pray and make every comma just perfect, and every period just perfect. Oh, you pray so beautiful. You can't talk to God like that. You're listening to what you're saying and punctuating your prayer. O God, help you to turn loose once and pray. Stop saying prayers.


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